


Space Walk

by HedwigsTalons



Category: Thunderbirds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:53:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22515043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedwigsTalons/pseuds/HedwigsTalons
Summary: John has some maintenance to do outside TB5 but Gordon is proving to be a hinderance.
Kudos: 19





	Space Walk

John eased open the compartment cover on the outside of Thunderbird Five and surveyed the array of circuit boards contained within. Normally maintenance of the space station could be undertaken from inside the craft but this particular upgrade required a trip into the void of space. He was usually highly defensive against of any derisory comments made about the thunderbird he viewed as his own personal property; on this occasion he was silently cursing what he considered to be a fundamental flaw in her design.

He took a moment to compose himself by running through a mental checklist of the procedure. One wrong move, one incorrect set of terminals touched by his tools and short circuited, and part of the sensitive communications system would be fried. If he made a mistake Thunderbird Five would lose some of her transmission capabilities. If he succeeded and replaced the old circuitry with the new component recently developed by Brains then Thunderbird Five would be less sensitive to the solar flare activity and the electromagnetic storms which sometimes degraded her signal strength.

The circuit boards lined up within the compartment were tightly packed leaving little margin for error. 

Or shaky hands.

John took a few deep breaths and removed the tools from a pocket on his space suit. The suit was another new addition to Thunderbird Five’s inventory and one John was highly satisfied with. The material was thinner than the previous incarnation of the suit and his manoeuvrability was greatly enhanced. The gloves were a triumph of design and engineering and allowed him just as much dexterity as bare hands would. The surface of the suit held an array of pockets and pouches, placed to his own specific measurements so that each was easy to reach and open. It was a vast improvement on the old generic space suit. 

He shifted his focus off of the hatch and onto the internal face of his helmet. This was another new feature of the space suit. The visor acted as a display screen allowing him to view vital information such as how much oxygen was left in his air tanks. The suit also monitored his vital signs; heart rate, respiration rate, temperature and blood oxygen saturation level. These statistics could be called up at will by either himself or the wider International Rescue team via the communication link. At the moment he wanted his field of vision clear and the screen uncluttered so only the digital information on view was the number of minutes of oxygen remaining. 

The number on the display decreased, giving him a stark reminder that he needed to get on with the task in hand. Oxygen availability was the limiting factor on this job. He sincerely hoped he would be able to complete the task safely on a single tank and not have to return to the body of Thunderbird Five to replace his oxygen cylinder.

Manipulating a pair of pliers into the cramped space John took hold of the old circuit board. The board was held rigidly in place. He pulled back firmly but smoothly. A jolting movement now could cause him to knock one of the other boards and do untold damage to the satellite. 

The black of space around him flicked to a bright view of corals and darting fish. The sudden change of scene made him jump and catch one of the adjacent boards, thankfully he didn’t knock it out of position. He cursed aloud.

“Gordon! Quit messing with my simulation.”

“What makes you think it was me?” came the voice of his younger brother through the speaker inside his helmet. 

“Firstly, it’s always you. Secondly, who else would choose fish?”

“Brains said you needed to prepared for all eventualities.”

“I don’t think teleportation to the Great Barrier Reef is quite what he had in mind” John responded, a note of exasperation in his voice.

“I haven’t”

“Haven’t what?”

“Teleported you to the Great Barrier Reef. This is the Maro Reef, off Hawaii. You can tell by the presence of _sargocentron xantherythrum_ , the Hawaiian Squirrelfish.” Gordon adopted the tone of one trying to explain something to a small child. “That’s the ones the same colour as Thunderbird Three but with thin white stripes down the sides.”

“ _Fascinating_ as this oceanography lesson is” John huffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm “can you _please_ put me back in space.”

The scene abruptly changed again.

“Gordon, that’s not what I meant and you know it!”

There was silence over the radio. John correctly surmised that the joker had fled the simulation control room so as to have a chance of going to ground before the irate victim of his prank could hunt him down.

Sighing, he returned to the task in hand, trying to ignore the moonscape in which he was now immersed. 

The rest of the procedure was completed without a hitch. The new circuit board was placed inside its mount and the cover replaced.

Only once he was satisfied that everything was as it should be and all his tools were safely stowed did John manoeuvre his way back through the artificial zero-gravity chamber to the airlock on the side of the replica satellite. The chamber wasn’t big enough to house a complete replica of Thunderbird Five but they had sections in storage that could be rigged up for when tasks like this needed practice.

He opened the airlock and returned to the world of of gravity and oxygen. His final task after resealing the airlock was to check the display screen inside his helmet. Twelve minutes of oxygen remained in the tank. This was better than his previous attempts, even with Gordon’s interruption, but still too close for comfort. He had three weeks before he was due to relieve Alan and return to his duties in space. Three weeks in which to practice the procedure and ensure it could be safely completed on a single tank of air.

It also meant he had three weeks to think up some suitable revenge on the red-haired prankster.


End file.
